


Where There's Smoke...

by Haunt_Haunt_Haunt



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: All I Write is Damien These Days, Amira's A Dom, Amira's Place, Damien Might Actually Get Good Grades, Damien's a Mouthy Sub, F/M, Feels, So Here's More Filth, functional relationship, healthy BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt/pseuds/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt
Summary: Where there's smoke, there's fire, and Damien and Amira have been smoldering for a while.





	Where There's Smoke...

Damien sat on the counter of the bathroom in the usual spot. He was smoking, which wasn't abnormal, and he was people watching. He watched Amira come in, and he marveled at Principal Giant Spider's new rules. Just a few years ago, this would have been impossible. Giant Spider was known for being a hard-ass and pretty puritanical when it came to seperation of the genders, but after Damien had set the old bathrooms on fire (it was an accident, honest), the new bathrooms were no longer separated. This was also a measure taken to make gender-diverse students feel more welcome. He smoked, Amira came out of the stall, and washed her hands, then looked at him.

"Can I join you?"

He scooted over so there was room for her, and she eased herself up onto the counter. Her thigh rested against his, and he blushed at the unexpected contact, but played it off as brooding. Amira pulled out a red and black box with flame decals and puffed on it, expelling a large cloud that smelled like strawberry cream.

"Smells nice," he mumbled.

"I like strawberries."

He went back to smoking in silence. He knew that she was going to have this talk with him at some point. She had been flirting with him on and off for a little over two months now. It was only natural that she was going to ask him out, and he had a witty retort loaded.

"You probably mark easily, huh?"

Whatever comment he had died.

"Umm... what?"

"You probably mark easily. Like, if I hit you, there would be a nice bruise on your beautiful skin."

Damien didn't really know how to respond. He had never in a million dreams thought that someone might threaten him, of all people, with violence. He was immediately struck with admiration. She was bold. He responded in his usual manner.

"That would be a bad idea and I would pummel you into the ground so hard, the tile would crack."

She smiled and puffed out another cloud of vapor, making smoke rings. It took good throat control to do that. He banished the thought from his mind as quickly as he thought it.

"I'd like to see you try. I'm pretty good at making bad boys behave, and you're super mouthy."

"The fuck, Amira? Is this how you come onto people?"

"No. I don't have the means to do that, but if I did, it would be on your face and you'd swallow like a good slave."

Damien opened his mouth, but shut it again. This was so off-course from what he was expecting, he didn't have anything to say. He went back to brooding.

"I wonder what it would take to tame Damien Fuckin' LaVey?"

"Look, I don't know what you're smoking out of that robot cigarette, but this got weird. I think I'm gonna go," Damien said and hopped down off of the counter. She crossed her legs and he was almost able to see up her dress.

"You do that. We'll talk again."

 

That had been a week ago. They approached the subject again, and Damien didn't realize that he actually might have been into that. It wasn't something that came up a lot in hell, but BDSM was still a thing, and apparently Amira was a Dom. Torture and BDSM didn't mix well, so his dads told people that if that was what they were into, then to keep it safe, sane, and consensual, they needed to go to the sexy circle. Damien and Amira worked out a contract, more because of Damien's curiosity than anything, and now, here he was, sitting in a chair, listening to the music come out of the bathroom.

/You’re stumbling like the Nazarene  
You've cast your gaze too high  
The rapture you seek is found below, and it’s been denied\

He tapped his foot to the song. He didn't usually listen to dark wave, but this Blaqk Audio thing was pretty good. He was sweating because he just came over when she told him to. He checked through his texts again.

Get your ass over here. 192 Oakland Ln.  
Wear something easy to get out of, be ready to shower, the door is unlocked.

That was all she had sent him. He did as he was told, surprised at his own eagerness. He had even stopped by a florist to pick up a tiger lily bouquet. It wasn't because he was told to, but just because he felt it was the right thing to do when you go to meet a goddess. He shook his head, unable to believe the thoughts he was having. This was weird. He was about to bail when he heard the shower turn off. The music kept playing.

/You're stunning just like a Philistine  
You’re wasting precious time  
Shake off that chill of Heaven  
And come rest your weary eyes\

Amira came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. She studied him like a person studies a worm, then went into a room down the hall. He shuddered. The towel looked like a damn postage stamp on her. She wore tight clothes so she always seemed smaller, but she was actually thicker in person, and Damien was kind of into that. Fuck normalized beauty standards. It felt wrong that he had examined her in that split second like a piece of meat, but was that not the reason he was here? He didn't know how to make his brain turn off.

Amira came in in one of her favorite black tube dresses, but she wasn't wearing the boots or the red jacket, and the dress gave him a nice view. He tried to push it out of his head. She sat across from him on the other red couch and set down an incense burner and started prepping incense sticks. She also had a three-ring binder that she placed on the glass of the coffee table. She lit the incense and a heady aroma filled the room. It was freesia and teak wood. She slid the binder over to him and crossed her arms. He went to offer her the flowers, but couldn't make himself do it, so he just set them on the table, then flipped open the binder.

"The hell is this?"

"Don't speak unless spoken to. It's your math homework, and you are going to work on it tonight."

He snorted. "You can't be fuckin' serious. This is why I'm here?"

"No, Damien, but I don't fuck degenerates, and I've seen your grades. Finish your homework, and I will reward you. Don't, and I will punish you. I'm here to help you if you need it." She stood and went into the kitchen, and came back with a vase, carefully arranging the tiger lilies and cutting the stems properly.

He looked at the homework. To be fair, it wasn't all that much, and he usually just ignored his homework to protest against authority, but this didn't feel like that. Homework was just a way to keep kids focused, but for Amira, it felt more like an obstacle. Either he could hurdle it, or he could fail, and he relished the challenge. So, as anti-Damien as it was, he worked on his homework. When she finished with the flowers, she sat next to him and helped him, and it was actually an enjoyable experience. They worked over the problems, and since he didn't procrastinate, he finished it in thirty minutes, which was like, a record or something.

"See? Was that so hard? You're actually incredibly intelligent when you apply yourself."

"Well, yeah, but it's the authority thing. I have to rage against something," he said, attempting to make light.

"And that's fine, Love, but you shouldn't do something detrimental to yourself. Yes, science has proven that homework doesn't actually do anything, but it's still a part of your grade, and I think you'd be hot in a graduation gown. Also, think of the look on Ms. Ivy's face when you actually turn it in tomorrow. It'll be priceless," she closed the binder and stuck it in her backpack.

"I'll give it to you at school tomorrow. Now, for the reason you're here, this is going to be pretty simple. I know what I want, and I don't need a man to tell me. Unfortunately, what I want is a man, and you're my type. So, you're going to do as I say like the dog you are, and in return, I may allow you to rut against me. If you don't, then I'm going to kick you out of my house. If you think you can get easy ass somewhere else, then be my guest. However, you need discipline and you want to surrender control, and that's what I can offer you. What do you say?"

"Well, I mean, I'm here."

She smiled and ran a finger along his jaw. "That's what I like to hear, Love. Now, go be a good boy and shower. You smell terrible. While you do that, I'm going to make dinner. Don't bother with pants or a shirt when you get out. Underwear will do. When you're done, you will sit on the floor. And again, don't speak unless spoken to."

Damien moved automatically, stripping out of his shirt as he headed to her restroom. He got in the shower, and realized that he was hard. He was totally into this, though he didn't really know what 'this' was. He had done a cursory search on BDSM, but it wasn't really comprehensive, and he had a feeling that Fifty Shades of Gray was fifty shades of wrong. To him, that seemed like a story of abuse and non-consensual kinks. He wanted to do this right, but he figured that he would learn as he went. He showered, then groomed, not wanting to look gross if this did go somewhere. He had put off trimming because he didn't really have someone to impress, but he felt differently now.

When he came out, he got something he wasn't expecting. Amira had changed. She was wearing a black and red corset, fishnets, and tall boots, but was just wearing black satin bikini briefs on the bottom. He turned maroon and tried to make words, but then remembered that he hadn't been spoken to, so all he could do was sit in the floor and be painfully aware of his stiffening cock that wasn't hidden at all by the soft cotton of his underwear. She finished whatever she was doing and turned on her heel, not an easy trick in those boots, and walked over, placing a plate on the floor in front of him. It was coq au vin and mushrooms. That was a fancy way of saying chicken cooked in red wine. He waited to eat, realizing that she had forgotten silverware, but she ate hers, not even looking at him. She only spoke when she was halfway finished.

"Is something wrong, Love?"

"I don't have any silverware."

"Ma'am."

"Right. Sorry. I don't have any silverware, ma'am." he repeated.

"Do animals normally eat with silverware? I didn't know dogs were that civilized."

He tried to think of a way to argue, but for once, Damien didn't have a counterpoint, and it might have been from a lack of blood to his head. His cock was raging hard. He was so into this. So, instead of arguing, he picked it up in his hands and ate it, even eating the mushrooms. She smiled and went back to eating.

"Good boy, Love. Is it good? And be honest. I never punish honesty. I'm trying to get better at cooking."

He swallowed the piece in his mouth. "It's a little dry. I think you left it on the heat a little too long."

She nodded and stood, going into the kitchen to deposit her empty plate, then scribbled something in an open book. He wasn't sure what to do, so he kept eating. When he was finished, she helped him up.

"Go do the dishes, wash your hands, then meet me in the bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and she turned and went into the bedroom. He wasn't long behind her. Her bedroom was one of the larger rooms in the house, and there was room for a bed, a bench, and something he recognized from wikipedia called a St. Andrew's Cross. it had fur-lined cuffs where his hands and feet would go. She was sitting on the bed, and she patted it when he walked in. He sat on it, and she laid her head in his lap.

"What do you think? Do you like it so far?"

He swallowed. "You know, I didn't think I would, at first, and I feel like I'm struggling with the basic concepts, but this isn't that bad. It's kind of nice to be told what to do every now and then. If you think being in high school is hard, try doing that and being a prince of hell at the same time."

"Well, I'm happy to do this whenever you need it. I can do this 24/7, but I figured that might be a bit much at first."

"So, what do we do?"

"Well, in public, we act like normal dating people. We go out, have nice dinners, hold hands in the hallway, but when we're in this house, it goes like it has tonight. And you're always going to do your best at school. That's not negotiable. There's nothing wrong with causing trouble, but your grades need to get better."

He nodded. She smiled. "Wanna get laid?"

He nodded again, but this time, with enthusiasm.


End file.
